Tag: Community

I hosted a storytelling salon with friends at home recently (first time to host one there). It was eye-opening fun and unforgettable.

This salon experience taught a lot about group dynamics based in a storytelling environment.

These learnings stand out:

1 — Vulnerable and forthright group sharing emerged, more so than what I first expected. The group’s response to the salon’s storytelling theme was more participatory and disclosing than what I anticipated. This was beautiful to engage in and observe; the intimate, sensitive journeys people offered were truly something to honor.

The story salon’s structure involved a pre-set theme called: Home-stories of retreat and reunion. The group dynamic unfolded in two ways: I first welcomed everyone and then opened the discussion by sharing a few stories about family that resonated the theme for me. I stood up to present, as friends listened in circle-seating while munching on breakfast.

This took 25 minutes, longer than what I envisioned.

After this, friends were invited (…not pressured!) to share their stories and perspective with the ‘home’ theme as a guide. Folks could present their insight standing or sitting, whatever felt natural. People began to offer really emotional and personal experience…moments that made a raw, penetrating effect on their home life: the painful bewilderment when parents die; acts of rebellion to family authority; and changed recognition of what home is and what it isn’t.

Changes for next time:

Limit opening facilitation to 15 minutes vs 25. Overall time ran out where each guest had told a story…except for one. Yikes! She was so gracious about it. The salon’s ultimate intent is to create an agile, attentive listening environment for those that want to share. One that embodies ample time for each person (who wants to give voice) to do so. So I definitely want to shorten my intro bit. Also — possibly suggesting folks keep their stories to a certain time frame may help too. …..will ponder what can help inclusiveness more on the time front.

2 — Clarifying at the start how intimate story gatherings can affect the senses provided useful groundwork. Before diving into the story-sharing piece, I offered clarification on how – potentially – this intimate spatial dynamic could impact us consciously or not. Often when a small group sits near one another (our seating arrangement is pictured just below) — the exchange of attentive energy stimulates the senses in certain ways: hair may raise up on arms; faces may blush; deep deep breaths unexpectedly may inhale/exhale; emotional candor often intensifies.

Physical or emotional reactions certainly are not an automatic byproduct; but given this was the first salon for us to host at my home, it seemed wise to be overt about how direct, close-proximity storytelling can engage physicality (and emotional life) sometimes unexpectedly. Tears and shaky voices ended up as apart of people offering their perspective. Random spikes of humor popped out. Lots of gentle accepting silences surrounded our stories too, along with I believe, a sense of okay-ness and affirmation.

Changes for next time:

Starting the salon with this little orientation piece is actually a no-change keeper. Folks offered appreciation for it later on. So if different people attend the next event – I’ll lean on this decision again with hopes of cultivating similar safety when it comes to supporting folks that want to open up.

3 — Recording audio devices were an offered tool for any storyteller, but folks weren’t into that.

I offered anyone to record their stories via a mini handheld audio recorder; tellers could simply speak into it as if it were a mobile mic. I find it useful to review told stories after the fact for growth & education. But no one else sought out the recording option. I’m better realizing that for me, I gain sense of community and also increased joy in the craft when reviewing audio later on. Others though may primarily seek the community, cathartic aspect of this type of gathering (vs viewing it as a more formal source of storytelling practice). This is absolutely natural, now that the differing expectation is clearer to me post-event.

Changes for next time:

Hmm, I’m not 100% sure if this even warrants a change. The salon ended up being a pretty personal, tender arena. Informal. I want those elements to be honored, preserved, and to carry over to future gatherings. But something about making this audio tool resonates, making it at least available to folks if they want to study or reflect on their oral storytelling at a later time. I may mention it again next event so people know it remains a potential tool at anyone’s disposal.

Looking forward (a lot) to pondering the next salon theme (and for it to hurry up -n- get here!).

“Wherever my story takes me, however difficult the theme, there is always some hope and redemption…” Michael Morpugo

One of my “…just do it” goals for this New Year is to enjoy friends more often through casual storytelling and conversation. That goal began brainstorms for a storytelling salon event series at my home. The first storytelling salon for the year happens (gulp!) tomorrow. Adrenaline accelerates with every minute over here with last minute planning!

What the heck is a storytelling salon?

It is a personal, subjective experience to define for sure. But I work with this approach: each story salon occurs on the weekend at my home/apartment building, and includes hospitality for the first hour; then oral storytelling of archived stories that I’ve wanted to share with community for many moons; and casual theme-based group discussion afterward. The overarching interest is good ole community with friends in the context of storytelling and learning each other’s life experience more.

Three thoughts surface now as final details resolve before the big day tomorrow:

1. Deciding the core focus has been useful i.e. to cultivate an intimate story experience & environs for sharing personal perspective.

Once this focus for the salon crystalized more, other party-related or social options faded to irrelevance. The intent is creating a type of ambience where friends would ideally feel comfortable spending time (and opening up more too to the story-sharing aspect). Physical space – how it can affect the flow and disposition of people – has been an interesting consideration. The party room on the third floor of my home’s condo building turned out to be a better space conducive to intimacy (vs our specific home unit). There’s a slightly higher ceiling that some say can cause people to associate ideas more freely (…getting a kick out of that tidbit). Restrooms and a roof deck are feet away when folks need alone time.

The main element with this salon idea is to create an agile, non-demanding dynamic for friends that sometimes complex hospitality environs can distract from. A non-existent white glove treatment is the point. Think lots of cushy sofas and puffy-fluffy chairs organized in circle-seating; soft natural window light; a few candles; low overhead lighting; and the U2 playlist playing at a lower hum.

At first when planning loosely began last December, I leaned toward a full menu to provide buddies. But then I frankly felt the stressful stomach knots form. So a friend suggested a potluck option which has been fun and a creative collaboration for the group.

When sending the save-the-date notice out a while ago, I tossed out a link to potential brunch food ideas (cinnamon rolls or bagels or french toast for starters or other options). The group approach has helped keep the planning spirit light, and attention more on the storytelling piece.

3. Setting a story theme and an unconditional tenor toward participation has added needed, unobtrusive structure.

The story theme is: Home – running away and reunions.

In the spirit of facilitating greater focus and ease for guests — I suggested a theme for them to (casually) reflect upon before salon day.

The theme’s purpose is to provide perimeters regarding topic. Often in a public dynamic like this, a non-topic driven gathering can overwhelm concentration or prevent precise memory recall from kicking in.

In hopes of generating more ease and willing participation, the salon will start with a story from me about home in Oklahoma growing up…roughly a 7 minute story. Then afterward, I’ll welcome other people’s perception of their home experience with an opening question.

Guests can share their reflections as they’re open to it. If everyone is shy and isn’t down for sharing, no sweat! We’ll simply continue to snarf down cinnamon rolls and kibitz.

It continues to be a blast to plan and anticipate.

Looking forward to learning about friends more tomorrow, their stories from home, and tons of photos to relive the joy.

Conversations with two different neighbors unfolded within a few days of each other. They keep floating in my head for further reflection. During a front hospitality shift at church (my workplace too back then), I met both of these guests as their initial point of welcome to the church’s campus.

The first encounter was with a younger gentleman in his twenties. He was spirited and articulated his words with a little punch….not with a disrespectful tone at all, but with an audible beat of precision.

He proceeded to offer his thanks for the church helping him replace his birth certificate a while ago, which was neat to hear! It was motivating to meet him and receive his sentiment on behalf of the team.

His speech pattern then began to accelerate.

He said: “They erased my memory because they inject serum in my eyeballs each night up in Baltimore.”

I wasn’t sure what to say beyond some quiet eye contact.

His speaking rate continued to accelerate then slow back down, then speed back up as he described his memory loss and eye ball injections. It was clear he deserved compassion, and sincere regard. The guest repeated expressions of appreciation for the church’s volunteer team again that had helped him secure his birth certificate. He mentally bounced in between the contexts of injections, memory loss, & gratefulness.

Bewilderment
He seemed to want his gratefulness for the church community to be honored in a certain way but I wasn’t sure what to do. It was a sense in my gut that I was trying to interpret. Then mental fatigue really kicked in. I just wanted the exchange to end but wanted to offer some sort of resourcefulness. I asked if he’d like a mini directory about the church and nearby health providers too; I offered my own thanks to him for visiting while directing him to the door.

I’m still analyzing this guest engagement from a hospitality perspective. Sometimes providing attentiveness while ignoring some inner bewilderment is apart of extending hospitality.

I’m grateful to him for that learning. Something else about the exchange though made an impact that I did not realize until later.

The next week

A local neighbor arrived at the church asking for a clean pair of jeans. He was in his 40s, had lived on the street a while, conversational (and I recall very warm too). As he shared about his clothing needs, the inner bewilderment from the recent guest last week cropped up. That instantly provoked internal fatigue that in that moment with this new guest, I just didn’t want to feel again.

So I interrupted the guest in mid-sentence with the hope to end the conversation.

I instantly felt guilt & regret sprout up inside. It was an impatient move to interrupt (and inhospitable to say the least). The man went silent.

He then replied with beautiful self-control & dignity: “Ma’am I’m poor and am preparing for the colder season. I don’t mean to take up unnecessary time. But when you’re poor you need to see asking for help as an asset. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

I felt like such an ass.

I apologized, thanking him for his forgiving patience and clarity of mind. After we found some suitable clothes that fit, we had a strong, brief discussion about his entry to living on the street in multiple states. His wisdom opened my mind on many levels. For starters – he brought to a more conscious level how being homeless does not mean your self-knowledge or capacity for wisdom is less than other neighbors who are perceived as ‘more integrated or relevant in society.’

Conversation with him revealed how I’d held this social bias yet was not conscious of it.

Our exchange underscored how delivering hospitality does not simply demand empathetic communications but also unconditional patience even when inner resources may be stretched.

Afterthought

It occurred to me later that me being a wee bit mindful of self-care would be goooooooood & prudent.

These encounters bring to mind now a devotional excerpt from Sarah Young’s enriching book Jesus Calling.

She wrote from her October 31 entry:

Learn to listen to (God) even while you are listening to other people. As they open their souls to your scrutiny, you are on holy ground.

Other people in the conversation said political candidates were a turn-off and “…why can’t they get better people to run for office?”

Needless to say, our discussion pivoted around this year’s campaign season. The whole combative carnival that is this presidential race does not make for an obvious segue to greater spiritual understanding. But the above passionate assertions brought to mind a thought that’s not quite finessed in my brain, yet it’s led to some unanticipated views to spiritual commitment and community.

Maybe I’ve been online too much lately grappling with political and racial turmoil; but this election more so than others has triggered my theory that average voters don’t want to be inconvenienced in regularly exercising their voice and regularly working to improve the ills of community or the nation as a whole.

So when the presidential elections come around — all that dormant, unused activism explodes into a frustrated, screaming citizenry who wants immediate action, for things to change “ASAP” and for the “revolution” to get “someone out there to listen.”

Who do we really really want to own the poop storm we are in right now as a democracy? Who is the proverbial they (referenced in above exchange) that should drum up presumably better candidates on which voters should pass judgment?

It’s not the (always fictional) perfect candidate’s responsibility, no matter who we elect.

Absolutely I have political preference on how this election pans out, and believe in the value of our vote. But that act of empowered adulthood in no way replaces the daily empowerment of investing ourselves, even to the point of it being inconvenient, to improve this nation one community at a time.

I believe each voter’s sense of ownership (me too) needs to step into the proverbial arena of commitment like these candidates have. Trump’s ethos scares the hooey out of me but dang he got into one of the most inconvenient marathons in the world i.e. putting his hat in the presidential ring. I admire that courage – in Clinton even more so – even if they are immersed in imperfection themselves.

What’s the spiritual relevance of community and political contenders? There’s a ton of nuance but right now, Jesus comes to mind. He fully committed to his community and his city as his life. As Henry Drummond wrote: “He (Jesus) looked at the city. Then He wept over it. Then He died for it.”

Jesus asserted the inconvenient habit of commitment. It seems a timely decision to reflect upon when investing efforts in between the presidential votes we cast.

What is it about the pitch of a person’s voice that can convey a message, as much or more so than their spoken words?

A woman last week was walking much of 17th Street, the main street in our neighborhood. She walked a measured pace and yelled one word repeatedly as if creating a one-person protest; a few blocks away from intersecting her on the sidewalk – her screams of one word rang out in fierce volume penetrating us nearby with what felt like surround sound:

No!

No!

No!

With every other step, she yelled “no” over and over in fever pitch.

The tenor in her voice held a mix of fierceness and anger. But it is unclear in my mind now how much of that fierceness was actually meant from her (or was instead being projected from the rants in my own head):

No! more polar political rages

No! more starving for food

No! more racist sexist binges

No! more denied grasps over boundaries as a fleeing people collapse on barbed wire

She kept screaming her “no” and I became concerned that I’d over indulge my own frustrations of this world, caving to a self-righteous pity party.

Then as the woman passed by and echoed onward, a memory of a good friend and colleague floated up about the relationship between justice and persevering. She once said:

“No, NO, NO ….I can’t sit still with the world this way.”

Yes, with some mercy and discipline (and an avalanche of love), forward let us go.

It was a strange day today at church where I work. Many intense events all happened at once. First a man with questionable sanity entered the chapel & began to scream. He was unresponsive so I called the police. While he continued to scream, another gentleman came in from the street asking for a belt from the church’s community clothing closet. This man looked unwell and thin, I’d say 100 lbs tops, and his pants were being held up by his hands.

The screaming guest meanwhile kept up his volume and the police had yet to arrive. Then other people entered the church asking for directions to the White House and another woman sought some food. My nerves were fluttering up a storm; a pastor came out to help ease the crowd.

Then the police arrived right as the precious frail man needing a belt got tears in his eyes because I couldn’t find a damn belt to fit him. My frustration was at a fever pitch, let alone my feelings of inadequacy to help this guy.

All of a sudden the screaming man, now surrounded by police officers, calmed down and walked over to us with what looked like vivid sense of purpose. He took off his belt and handed it to the other man in need. The belt fit well and I thanked God for bringing such sanity and kindness to the chaotic moment.

My brain is still swirling from everything. It was a humbling moment to see up close how hope & resourcefulness can extend from one stranger to another.

Even though the screaming man seemed to slip in and out of lucidity, in that moment something clicked, some inside awareness in himself which recognized the basic human need in a stranger.